The exploits of British steamers
by Delta23
Summary: Times are becoming hard on British Railways for steam engines. A certain GWR 1366 pannier is left worried about what the future holds for him and steam as a whole. When the end draws near, what will he and his remaining friends do? Will they survive or will they fall like so many others before them?
1. Chapter 1

A long time ago in the early 19th century, the first railway locomotives were constructed in England. They were developed and improved on by many minds over the course of the next 150 years or so. They used the method of heating water to produce steam, which when condensed under enormous pressure, propelled the locomotives either forward or back. They eventually spread out from England worldwide, and played a major factoring role in the industrial revolution, and the development of the new world.

Eventually locomotives of New sources of traction started to impact railways. Instead of being powered by steam, they were powered by electricity, or internal combustion engines. They had several advantages when compared to their steam propelled counterparts. They worked together for a few years, but steam gradually started to decline from working services, and were replaced by the newer forms of traction. Eventually steam was completely eradicated from most railways, with very few still maintaining steam in regular service.

One particular railway in England that continued to maintain steam was the North Western Railway. When England nationalized it's railways into British Rail, the North Western Railway was one of the only railway companies that kept steam in working order, and the only one to keep first class steam services. Several other rail companies thought it was strange for the director of the NWR to chose not to dieselize like the rest of the world was, but the director didn't care. He chose to keep steam, and had empathy for the older technology and the crews who ran them. His name was Sir Charles Topham Hatt, affectionately known otherwise as The Fat Controller.

The locomotives and some of the rolling stock were happy to work for such a director as he. I say some rolling stock because while a lot of them showed respect and admiration for him and the railway, there were some that didn't, namely the trucks (or wagons, cars, freight stock, whatever you refer to them as). Like locomotives, trucks come in several different types of variants, shapes, etc. There're tankers, vans, flatbeds, gondolas, hoppers, stocks, ladles, and brake vans. Now brake vans are not trucks, but they are required for when pulling them, and a few can be just as tedious, if not more.

Although there is a whole lot to learn and know about the North Western Railway, this story is not focused on it, its history, or its railway stock. It's about British Railways, (otherwise referred to by those on Sodor as the other railway). It's specifically about some of its engines and how they coped with the era of dieselization.

In 1959 in England, there were a group of engines who worked near and at Bristol yards. There was quite a diversity in terms of engines. There were some from the SR, the LNER, the LMS and the GWR. Most of them had different perspectives and ways of doing their work, but despite their differences, most of them were firm friends for years. However, as progress continued on throughout the country, relations and views started to seem a little shaky.

One day a GWR 1366 class pannier Tank was shunting some 7-plank wagons in a marshaling yard. He was minding his own business when a BR 31 class diesel rolled in with some empty coaches for a train he was going to pull. He took a look at the pannier and scoffed indignantly.

"Just ridiculous. Old, out of date steam kettles still in service? I don't know what the world is coming to when it comes to you lot."

"Why don't you shove it up your air intake," the pannier retorted. "We're just as useful if not better than you buzz boxes on wheels."

"You just keep telling yourself that," the 31 replied rolling his eyes. "We diesels are the future of this railway and all others across the world for that matter. There's no fussing around us to get us moving. Just the turn of key, a full petrol tank and were off. You lot need to wait around for hours to get steam up," he scowled.

"You do know none of you are perfect you pompous git?" the pannier inquired. "No engine has ever been, or ever will be."

"Rubbish, we diesels have always been superior to you tin pots in every regard. And the whole world is just coming to the realization of it."

"Oh really? And what about the 28, 15, or 16 classes?"

The 31 growled and blew off smoke. "Oh please, their classes are embarrassments to diesel kind. They may as well go the same way as all of you lots. BR doesn't have time for classes that fail on a regular consistent basis. They are just the weak links of progress.

"So you don't even care for certain members of your kind simply because of a few teething troubles? That's just pathetic, even for you."

"What you call pathetic is just plain sense. You can't stop progress, because it doesn't have time to slow down for the weak and outdated."

"You know by that logic there will be a time when your own class will be on the scrap heaps like those you consider inferior to yourself."

"Nonsense, I'll be running on this railway for good. You may have a few more years of service left, but it's only a matter of time before your kind is eradicated for better traction. Your days are numbered, mark my words. You'll all see in due time," and he rolled away to meet his timetables.

The pannier growled and then sighed. He knew that even though a lot of stuff the 31 stated was wrong, he was right concerning a few things. Even though most steam engines and their crews saw them as still being useful, BR however thought differently. He wanted to deny his thoughts, but he knew deep down that it really was a matter of time before things really started to change. He wanted to pause and think, but he knew he still had a job to do, so he continued on with his shunting.

Later that night as he pulled into the sheds with the rest of his friends, he was still thinking about his argument with the 31. There were 5 other engines there as well. An LNER J39, a SR Q1, a GWR 5205, a CR 439 and a BR standard 6, whose names were Grant, Clen, Benjamin, Jean, and Cameron. As the pannier pulled in, the others realized his down mood. "What's wrong Darian?" the J39 asked with a concerned tone.

The pannier sighed. "It's nothing Grant. It's just, earlier today another one of the diesels was boasting as usual, and was going on about how engines like us are inferior to his kind."

"This isn't really anything new," Jean stated. "We've all heard and received criticism from them. We all despise it of course, but we know that we are all still useful."

"I know but, you guys have realized what's been happening over the years right? More and more steam engines are disappearing from service. One day they're out working, and the next they're gone, and in almost every case a new diesel seems to take their place. I'm just a little worried of how much time we ourselves, and steam in general have left not just in England, but the world for that matter." He then glanced back down at his lamp irons.

"It's disgraceful, having to take consistent mockery and threats from diesels," Benjamin fumed.

"You know it's not just diesels right?" Jean asked. "Several railway board members and directors don't really like steam either. They don't really care for older engines or the jobs of some of the staff. They only care about what's in their ledgers."

The others had to agree with what was said. Even the standard 6. He was built by BR and worked for them his whole life, but he could see that they were definitely not perfect. He kind of wished he knew what it was like to work for a railway before the nationalization occurred in 1948. He had a lot from some engines about how great their railway was before it happened, particularity from a few great western engines...

"This is one of the things I miss about the Great Western Railway," Benjamin stated. "We didn't need to put up with any chastisement, or the snobbery of any diesels for that matter."

"You know our railway did have about two of them, plus a few diesel railcars on their roster before 1948 don't you?" Darian asked. "A few other railways had diesels as well before the nationalization occurred."

"Yes, but that was a stark contrast as compared to our current way of life. I never really met any of them, but I can make a guess that they were only as stuck up as the ones we already have to work with."

"Even though most diesels we have met in our working careers have been hostile, snotty and insensitive, that doesn't necessarily mean that all of them are. I'm sure we have all had to deal with a few steam engines who are jerks as well," Jean stated.

"True, but at least they don't mock you simply because of your source of traction. Just about every diesel I've come across has jeered off about it," Benjamin retorted in an frustrated tone of voice.

"Just about?" Jean inquired raising one of her eyes.

"Some diesels I've encountered surprisingly have enough sense to keep their mouths shut when they are around steam engines. Although the look on their faces still confirm that they do not particularly like us, let alone actually respect us."

"At least be glad that some even do have a shred of decency. The way things are going on this railway, it can be a slight sense of temporary relief," Jean replied in a slightly unsure yet encouraging tone.

"I suppose. It would be a bigger relief if we didn't need to deal with them at all. But I'll take what I can get," Darian said weeshing off some excess steam.

For the next few days, things went on as usual. Trains would come and go, passengers would grumble, trucks would be annoying pains in boiler and diesels would be rude and snotty. This continued on for a few weeks until something resulted that started to change things. One dark, wet, drizzly night, 1366 was marshaling some particularly troublesome mixed cars for a fast goods run. He was just got done shunting them, and went off to find a brake van, when he overheard someone talking a few sidings away behind some tankers. When he moved back a little, he could see two diesels talking amongst themselves.

"Did you hear what some of the blokes at the works were saying earlier?" one of them asked.

"No I haven't, do tell," the other replied.

"British Railways are going to stop their production of steam engines next year," he smiled deviously.

The Pannier's metaphorical heart dropped to the bottom of his smokebox. Even though he had suspicions that this may happen, he couldn't believe what he just heard. Steam engines had been built for the last 150 years, now they were going to stop making them entirely? He just couldn't believe it, he didn't want to believe it, but something deep down told him that it may be true. He quickly reversed away with the van, he felt shocked, worried, sad, but also furious.

The diesel who was telling the news (who as a BR class 20) looked up when he heard the fading sound of puffing. He looked above the tankers and the dissipating spoke only confirmed what he heard. He scowled at first, but then smiled. "Looks like some soot belcher has been eavesdropping."

"Then why are you smiling then?" asked a certain 31 class.

"Because he knows that his time is short, and his worst fears will become a reality," the 20 replied with a devious smile.

"Finally at last. BR is finally starting to head fully in the right direction. With these filthy steamers out of production, it won't be long before we diesels run this railway completely without any incompetence, permanently."

The 20 agreed. "Yes my friend, it's only a matter of time." Then they slunked off through the sidings back to work.

WIP


	2. Chapter 2

1366 braked suddenly after passing over a set of points. After they were switched he then lurched forward rapidly.

"Hey! What's your hurry?" exclaimed the van.

"Easy Darian, we don't want to jump the rails here," his driver said pulling back his regulator.

Darian didn't really hear either of them. He just wanted to get his job over with so he could go back to the sheds. He slowed down when he approached the back of the goods train, thankfully more carefully. He buffered the van to the back, and after it was hitched onto the train and detached from him, he rolled away back towards the switches that lead to the sheds.

The other engines were either asleep or making small talk when Darian chuffed into his berth. He didn't say anything. He just rolled back until his buffers touched the bar.

Clen, Benjamin, Grant and Jean were lined left to right. Jean looked back to where Darian was. For as long as she had known him, the 439 class had not seen Darian look this distraught or upset.

"Are you alright Darian?" she asked nervously like that of a concerned older sister.

Darian didn't reply for about 5 seconds, then simply answered "No."

Jean felt inclined to ask why he was upset, because he was her friend. However, she hesitated because he really did not seem like he wanted to talk. Thankfully for her, he spared her from having to ask him.

Darian sighed and looked up. "I overheard some diesels talking in the yard behind some lines of cars. They didn't know I was listening to them. They were, well… they were…"

"They were, what?" Jean asked hoping to not cause him to mentally break down.

"They were talking about how BR is going to stop their production of steam engines next year."

Jean didn't say anything. She was kind of taken aback. She knew diesels were always going on about how they were going to leave steam to fall behind them, but she didn't think that BR would go so far as to completely stop making steam engines. At least not for awhile.

"You know that diesels have always been saying this kind of stuff, right?" she asked with an uncertain tone to her voice.

"I know, but the one who brought it up said that he heard it from some workers at the engine works discussing it." Darian then weeshed some leftover steam through his safety valve. "That just kind of raises the likelihood that it is actually going to happen."

Jean tired to look for a silver lining to the topic. "Even if it does happen, that doesn't necessarily mean that steam will be automatically over with. I mean, I'm sure that there are several privately owned business corporations that will continue manufacturing them."

Even though this statement gave Darian a little bit of relief, it still didn't change the fact that steam was beginning reaching its end. It also didn't change that stupid modernization plan that was passed four years ago. He was now starting to grasp the full meaning behind the whole thing.

"That may be true, but what are we going to do if we ourselves are ever withdrawn? What then? We'll be subjected to, well, you know..." He winced and closed his eyes trying desperately not to think about it, but he knew Jean knew what he was going to say.

"You don't know that will happen. Just because we're no longer being built doesn't mean steam itself is going to be tossed away completely. There could still be a lot of good things in the future to look forward to..."

Ever since he had first known her, Darian knew Jean always liked to see the brighter side of things. To have hope in dark circumstances, but he just didn't really see eye to eye with her on everything. He appreciated what she was trying to do, but he still felt like things were likely only going to get worse for them.

"I'm sorry Jean, but what good could there possibly be in the long run of the future to look forward to? We're not exactly the types people would consider purchasing for museums or private ownership. Even if we were, how long do you think it would even last? Almost nothing good lasts forever."

Clen, the Q1, who had previously been chatting with Jean before Darian arrived spoke up. "While it is true that most things come to an end at some point or another, and yes the future for steam is getting darker, there are things that do continue to persevere. There are several engines in the past that have been saved from the torch, and continue to leave great impressions wherever they go."

Darian grunted, "Yes, but most of those engines accomplished some impressive task or feat that led to fame sealing their fates." He though of a certain GWR 3700 class that he always wanted to meet but never got to, but pushed that absurd thought out of his smokebox.

"I'm not saying there is not hope, but it is just extremely unlikely. I don't want.. I don't want to have my hopes to high only to have them crushed if I or we are ever," He sighed. "cut up..."

Jean and Clen glanced at each other unsure of what to do or say. They both wanted to look on the brighter side, but knew that Darian had raised a good point to be taken into consideration. Finally Jean spoke up; "While it might happen, it is always good to have hope. No matter how far off it might be." With that, she and Clen eventually went to seep, leaving Darian lost in thought. Eventually he closed his eyes and hoped that some of what his friends had some meaning behind it.

The next morning was cool and damp. The engines didn't say much as the fire lighters got their fires started. The only thing they really did was just wait for their crews to show up. One of the workers who was cleaning and inspecting Darian's side rods to make sure they were properly tightened and lubricated noticed Darian's depressed mood.

"Something got you down Darian?" he asked while checking his piston rods for any leakage around them.

"Its nothing really Jenson, just, stressed I suppose."

"I'm sure whatever is bothering you will work itself out."

"I guess," he sighed, but he didn't have to much confidence with his reply.

Jenson didn't say anything for the remaining time he was working. He felt like Darian might just be going through a phase. Then again, some other steam engines that he had worked on over the last few weeks had had the same depressed expression as Darian. A few had admitted that they were worried, angry or upset when they found out BR's plans to discontinue steam next year. He could relate to them on that topic.

As a workman who's job it was to do cleaning and maintenance on steam engines, he had grown quite a fondness towards them. Its what kind of led him to becoming interested in working for the railway to begin with. Now that they were being replaced little by little by diesels and electrics however, a lot of people who had ever only been trained and licensed to work on steam engines had been layed off. Diesels just didn't require as much people to maintain and operate them. Unfortunately, there wasn't really anything anyone could do about it.

After the workmen finished checking, cleaning and lighting the fires, the engines started leaving one by one as their crews came. Darian and Grant were the last two left. The J39 looked over at his friend. They didn't talk to each other as much as some of their other friends, but ever since they met when Darian was transferred from Swindon to Bristol in 1950, they had been good friends ever since, and it pained him to see his friend in his current state. He was about to say something but did not get the chance as he chuffed off to do his work for the day.

"See you later Grant," he said as he went off to shunt.

"You to Darian," he replied.

He looked down at the ballast between his own rails sighing as he missed his opportunity, but shook it off as he finally got to leave a few moments later. He hoped to maybe catch Darian at the water tower or coal chutes to talk with him then.

As Darian arrived at the shunting yards, he found the trucks murmuring and chortling amongst themselves. He really did not want to put up with their idiocracies, but he knew that he going to have to suck it up if he was going to work. He came up to a line of 10 5-plank ballast wagons who were snickering to the trucks on either side of them. Darian hated ballast wagons. Almost all engines hate them because ballast wagons are notoriously known for being some of the most troublesome trucks of all others.

"What are you idiots laughing about?" Darian asked expecting some stupid answer.

"Why don't you go poke your funnel in someone else's business?" asked the second one in line.

"This is my business, because you're in my yard."

One of the SR 10 ton vans on the ballast trucks left side couldn't hold himself back from snorting while trying not to laugh. Darian glared to his right unamused.

"The way things are going for you, it'll probably be a diesel shunters yard soon."

This caused several other cars to start laughing again, this time out loud. Darian grit his teeth while glaring daggers at the van who didn't know how to keep his mouth shut. He weeshed steam right in his face causing him to go from laughing to coughing in seconds, which caused the other trucks to laugh even harder. He rolled forward and bashed the ballast wagons to start his shunting leaving an annoyed van and several other laughing cars behind him.

The ballast wagons had mixed emotions. Most of them were still laughing, while the others stopped because they were upset with Darian bashing them. The first three at the front of the line furthest from Darian started complaining to each other.

"Who does this guy think he is?" asked the first one at the front. "He can't just come in here and barge in on our business."

"Yeah," the third one replied. "Then he has the nerve to bash us for having a sense of humor. It's not our fault he can't take a joke."

"I'll tell you whats a joke," the second one quipped, "the treatment we get from engines like him. They see us as nothing but nuisances, yet we're the reason they are even around. If we trucks didn't exist, there wouldn't even be a reason for them to exist unless it involved those whining passengers. We're the ones that fully contribute to the railway's main source of revenue."

"Main source of what?" the second one asked with a confused expression.

"Forget it," the third one groaned rolling his eyes. "My point is that we take a stand to this. Not jut him, but the whole thing."

"And how are you suggesting we do that?" the first one asked. "Do you see any hills around? And he's a shunter, he probably rarely ever goes out on the main line, so what could we possibly do?

"You need to think outside the box my friend," he replied, mentally groaning of how ignorant some trucks could be. He realized he was going to have to take the role of leadership into his own buffers, as usual.

Every engine with enough sense should know that freight cars don't like to be biffed, bashed, or bumped. Darian was no stranger to this knowledge, but for the rest of the day, he didn't really care at all. He'd give any cars that laughed, made faces, mocked or mimicked him a good thrashing. He was of course careful with the ones that had fragile loads, but that was the only reason why he would't bump them. If they didn't contain anything fragile and were being horrid, he wouldn't hold himself back.

He knew this would cause them to want to pay him out, but really, what could they do to him since he didn't really take trains down the line? If they were not going to show respect to anyone, then they deserved to be treated like this. Especially if they were sick enough to joke about serious problems such as scrapping and death. Darian didn't know why trucks were such idiots, while just about every other kind of rolling stock, such as coaches or cranes could be considerate and respectful towards others. He just tried to stop letting his mind drift and focus on his assigned tasks.

Later that day during the cloudy afternoon, as Darian rolled down the some of the now empty sidings, he came up on a GWR siphon wagon, a shunters truck, and a brake van on two sidings on his right in front of some buffers facing the same direction he was. These were rolling stock he didn't despise like the others, because most of these were known to be quite pleasant chaps. Back on the Great Western, he actually had several friends that were the same class of rolling stock.

As he pulled up alongside them, they all looked over at him but didn't say anything. After a few moments the siphon on the siding further from him spoke up. "Do you need something?" she asked. The tone of her voice didn't exactly sound friendly, but it didn't sound harsh or brash either. The other two rolling stock seemed to be wondering the same thing.

"No no, its just, Its just that its been awhile since I've last seen rolling stock like yourself."

"Is that good or bad for you then?"

"Good I guess. It shows that the railway hasn't lost all of their milk company contracts to lorries."

The siphon then showed a pained expression across her face. Ever since the end of World War 2, the milk companies had started using the roads to transport milk from their farms. This resulted with several earlier siphons across the country to be fully withdrawn. Many of whom were her brothers and sisters. Darian did not understand her expression until a few moments afterwards.

His eyes widened upon realization. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend or upset you or anything, its just-"

"Its fine, its fine. You meant no offense." She then looked back at him. "You have probably heard that several of us siphons have been withdrawn?"

"Yes, I have. It really is unfortunate. Not just because of you lot being withdrawn, but also the fact that the railway is losing its milk contracts after about 40 years."

"Yes," she sighed. "It is unfortunate."

Darian then looked over at the brake van and shunters truck. "So, uh, what are your stories?"

The brake van, which had faded out grey and orange paint spoke first. "I was originally from the Great Eastern Railway. I did work most other brake vans did. I was eventually given to the GWR who was in need of a van for track maintenance runs. I was then given an orange coat so as to stand out while moving slowly. The orange is tolerable, but I much prefer my NER grey livery though," he mumbled.

Darian nodded and looked over at the shunters truck behind him and the van. Shunters trucks were basically very small flatbeds with tool chests built on top of them. So his face was rather small compared to other railway stock. "What about you?" he asked. The shunters truck didn't really say anything. This kind of confused Darian.

"Um, can he talk?" he asked.

"Yes, he can, but he isn't exactly the talkative type," the siphon wagon replied. "But if you want to hear his story, I suppose we'll tell you. He started off on the GWR like me. He didn't really get along well with the trucks since they hated that he was just another method to help get them shunted without causing much trouble to engines. He only seems to ever talk to us for some reason."

Darian looked back at him, and saw him nod.

"I Laura by the way," the siphon wagon replied introducing herself. "This is Declan," she said looking over at the brake van, "and Nolan," she stated glancing back at the shunters truck.

"It's nice to meet you lot," Darian replied while grinning slightly. "I'm Darian."

"Nice to meet a fellow Great Westerner," Laura grinned. "I've met others, but some sadly seem to have dismissed our GWR pride and efficiency of doing things."

"Well, that's why I like to remember one of the saying we had back then," Darian said.

"And whats that?" she asked.

"There are two ways of doing things: The Great Western Way or-"

"The wrong way," Laura said unanimously with him."

"Ahem?" Declan coughed between them staring at the both of them.

"No offense Declan," Laura grinned sheepishly.

"Oh non taken," he quipped rolling his eyes.

"Anyway, I should be getting back to my work. It was nice meeting you all," he smiled as he chuffed off.

"You too," Laura called as he rolled away.

Declan just glared at him. "Pah, Great Westerners. Engine or Carriage they're all the same."

"Oh come now Declan," Laura perked. "You can't deny that he's a pleasant sort of engine."

"I guess,"Declan sighed. Definitely not as brash or arrogant as other engines we've encountered."

"Well, you're not wrong," Laura sighed.

(Author's note: Sorry I haven't posted for awhile. I've been pretty busy with school and other things lately. But when I get more time in a few days or weeks, I'll be able to post larger sections and chapters on a regular basis. Thank you everyone who has stuck with this story so far.)

WIP


	3. Chapter 3

As Darian rolled down the sidings, he was in a slightly better mood. Meeting the three pieces of rolling stock had brightened his spirits slightly. It had been a long while since he last met railway stock besides his friends, that had not thrown insults when they layed their eyes on him. He viewed coaches as exceptions since they were usually respectful to engines who were respectful themselves. Even though his mood was slightly improved, it didn't last for to much longer.

The cars were not laying off their tricks, mocking and spite. Darian was getting really tired of the constant wheel slips he had while moving the cars around. It was starting to wear his tires down more than usual. The sand dropped helped a little, but he had to use it sparingly, so it didn't do as much as he wanted it to do. He had to work extra hard to get them in line and out onto trains on time.

Unfortunately he sometimes got delayed with the trains. The engines he had to get the trains ready for, mainly the diesels, would not hesitate to throw insults and mock him for falling behind. Sometimes he got mocked by them even of he was on time. A few steam engines would make comments, but they were much more considerate and less spiteful than that of the diesels. Though he appreciated the fact that some of his steam engine counterparts were understanding and supportive despite the fact he hadn't met a few of them, it didn't do much.

Later during the late afternoon about an hour before he finished his shift, Darian was working on shunting another train to head out. It was a line of about ten oil and fuel tankers. He was having a bit of trouble with one of the fuel tankers who didn't want to cooperate.

"Oh will you get moving already you stupid fuel drum?" he ordered while pushing it slowly onto the back of the train. If it were another truck he would have bumped it, but he knew better than to bash trucks with flammable contents. After he finally got it buffered up, he went to go look for a brake van. Declan was available, but Darian didn't want to put him on. He'd just met him and didn't feel like saying goodbye yet.

After he found another one and hitched it on, he went around near the front to wait for it to be picked up. To his disdain and anger it turned out to be a certain someone he had unfortunately encountered before. It was the class 31 from a few days ago, D5518.

"Oh, its you," the 31 said snobbishly, "no wonder it took so long for this train to be ready."

"What are you even talking about?" Darian snapped. "I got your train finished on time, what's your problem?"

"A real engine would have finished having the trains assembled before the engine that takes them out arrives, but I wouldn't expect a lowly steam shunter to understand that."

"Excuse me," Darian scoffed, "if your'e so concerned about your stupid trains why don't you shunt them yourself sometimes?"

"Oh please, and lower myself to the rank of a lowly shunter who works on dirty sidings? I think not. We mainline diesels are to important for that, menial labor."

"Go tell that to your Gronk counterparts. You do know that if no trains were shunted, you wouldn't even have any trains to take."

"Of course I know that you kettle. The Gronks are intended for that work, not us proper, sophisticated mainline diesels. I wasn't built yesterday."

"You were built a few months ago so I guess that still explains your ignorance. Nothing says sophisticated like pulling a train of grimy fuel tankers."

D5518 blew off smoke. "You know what I meant. I don't have time to waste on future scrap engines like you. I have actual work to do." With that he hitched onto his train, the guard blew his whistle, and he rolled off into the night with his train in tow.

Darian rolled his eyes. "Why don't you lot have your way with him since you couldn't take out your frustrations on me," he said to the tankers as they rolled by him towards the mainline. He then puffed back into the yard to finish the last trains on his shift. This got a few of them murmuring to each other slightly. Darian knew the old saying, "Every wise engine knows that you can not trust freight cars," but if there was one thing that cars could be trusted with, is that they were always eager to pay out an engine, and that they didn't care who it was.

As Darian went on with his work, a few ballast trucks surveyed him from the back sidings. Particularly the one who decided to take charge in paying him out. As he watched him he began to finally get an idea. He then began telling it to the other cars around him. Unknown to him though Nolan was also in the sidings with some of the other trucks, and could hear what he was saying. He really didn't know what to do.

Darian was still grumbling to himself as he pushed a pair of mail vans into the station to be added to the night passenger run. He then went to find the MK1s that were supposed to consist of the train. As he started to puff off to the coach sidings though, he was surprised to see them already being brought in by someone. He saw that it was a tender engine, which surprised him since most tender engines hated to fetch their own coaches. But as he brought them in, he got a better view and saw that it was his BR standard 6 friend from the sheds.

"Oh, hello Cameron," Darian said as he came along side him. "Your'e taking the night run I see."

"I am. To Exeter I believe. I'll probably spend the night there and be back by tomorrow," he replied.

Darian understood why. It was about an hour and a half journey each way, so it didn't make much sense for him to have to come right back. Some other engine would bring the return train for that evening anyway.

"Do you want these mail vans at the rear of your train or behind you?" asked Darian.

"You can leave them at the back. It'll make it easier to leave them at the platform when I get there."

Darian nodded and took the switch track to go put them at the end of his train. As the passengers began boarding, Darian stayed behind the train so that he could help push it out when it was time for Cameron to depart. His fireman unhitched him from the vans a few moments before the conductor blew his whistle. Cameron set off as Darian pushed from behind. After about 100 feet, Darian gradually slowed to a stop as the train set went on towards Exeter, then reversed to head back to the yard.

As Cameron thundered down the mainline, he whistle to Grant as he went by in the opposite direction. Grant whistled back, but it wasn't very loud. He was carrying a long coal drag train back from a large coal refinery, and looked worse for wear. As he pulled through the station and into the yard, Darian's eyes widened as he winced. Grant had steam slightly leaking from his boiler welds, his eyes were red, he was out of breath, and his smoke was as black as the coal he was hauling.

"Blimey Grant, you look terrible!" exclaimed Darian.

"Urgh, I feel like I'm falling apart," Grant groaned. "These stupid wagons gave me no end of grief," he growled glaring back at the train behind him. As Darian skimmed the train over, he saw that there were around 30 trucks or so.

"How did you even end up with a train this long?" Darian asked. "Didn't you get a banker to help with this?"

"If I did do you think I would be looking like this?" Grant snapped. He then sighed. "My crew asked the yard manager at the coal refinery if they could spare an engine, and the manager said that they were having their banking engine help some 42 Warship class with a fuel train back to Laira fuel depot instead, because he said the fuel delivery was more important than coal for ageing motive power.

"That's the biggest load of rubbish I've ever heard in my life."

"That's pretty much what they said to the manager, but he just said that its just to help the modernization plan and all that nonsense."

Darian looked at the sleepers in front of him and muttered some unintelligible words under his breath before he looked back at Grant.

"It's no use in complaining about any more lads," said Grant's driver. "What's done is done. The trains is already here so lets just get the wagons to the loading chutes."

Both engines just sighed as they went on with arranging the trucks to be unloaded. The trucks had had their fill of causing trouble that day, so they weren't as much trouble as they were previously. After Grant and Darian had shunted the trucks onto the coal loading siding next to the chutes to be tipped and unloaded, they put the remaining trucks in the siding next to it to be accessed later. Darian then took the brake van to the van siding while Grant went to refill on water before heading to the turntable in the sheds. After he shunted it with the others, he went off to the ash pits to dump his nearly burned out fire before heading off to join the others.

After he dumped his fire, he used what steam he had left to back onto the turntable, then backed up to the buffers after getting turned to the right track. Grant joined the others a few minutes later after he had dumped his own fire after taking on water. He seemed to be making a recovery after the trouble he had with his last train. A few of the other engines did notice his flustered and tired expression though, as well as the way he just sort of clanked and hissed steam as he rolled to a stop. Jean decided to inquire first.

"Grant, you looked a bit flustered. Penny for your thoughts?" she asked concerned.

Grant didn't really want to talk to long, and just want to go to sleep and let his boiler cool down, but decided to oblige her regardless. He told her and the others about the difficulties he had with the long coal train, and how the coal refinery didn't give him any help on the way back north. The others were understandably upset about the unfairness of the whole situation, how they despised trucks who had minds of their owns unlike the faceless ones, and how Grant had to thrash himself to get the train back to Bristol Barrow Road yard so that everyone who ran under steam could keep running. A few other engines who were not exactly part of their main group of friends, but were still friends that they associated and talked to on occasion, we also there. A little L&YR 21 class tank engine seemed to be intrigued with what Grant was saying, while an LMS 4F didn't looked as interested.

"That's awful," Clen said. "Can you imagine how it would've been if the coal didn't get brought up? We would be running on coal dust by the day's end. You can imagine how that may have ended."

Darian didn't really want to think about it that much, but if it did happen, the yard manager would have most likely brought a Gronk or two to take over until the coal came in. No doubt they would have hurled insults and mess up how they ran the yard. They may be built for shunting, but tank engines like him had far more experience running goods yards and handling than what any of them had. Probably more than they ever would have, since he and hundreds of other tank engines like him had worked the yards during the heat of World War 2. Several others still working had worked during World War 1 as well.

Grant didn't talk for to much longer, since he was nearly done explaining what happened. After he finished talking he went to sleep while a few of the other engines continued to talk for another hour or so before they themselves dozed off.

Back in the eastern part of the yard the trucks were still scheming. One of the older ones, that looked like it had its eyes and mouth painted on his front instead of having a regular face, was chatting with the main ballast wagon that had taken charge earlier that morning about how they could put their plan into action.

"How exactly do we put our plan to good use?" it asked. There are not many hills around, so it'll be a little challenging to wait until we get to one to break away."

"While I am a fan of breaking away and running in the opposite direction," the ballast wagon stated, "there are still ways to break away without steep gradients. If you even have a slight hill, the weight of the train will be enough to get it moving. We won't need to rely to much on just gravity alone."

"You make it sound so predictable," the older one said sarcastically. "Its one thing to say something will work, its another to actually get it to work."

"Will you just stow it already? I know it will work because I took everything into account. And I'll show you when we do it tomorrow."

Miles and miles away in a far off scrapyard, another line of engines were being brought into the yard after having spent a few days or weeks on some withdrawal sidings off the mainline. They didn't say anything, because they knew it would be pointless to do so. That didn't stop the scrap diesels from throwing salt in the wounds though. Two grimy yellow and dark grey 08 diesels were shunting cars of scrap around the yard just outside of the smelting shed, away from the scrap sidings.

"Why can't we just shunt the kettles to the melting pits now?" asked one of them. "That is what we're supposed to do in't it?"

"We're supposed to get these trucks shunted you dolt," the other replied while shunting his trucks into the shed. "They'll get shunted eventually. Just shut up and do the work you're assigned to do." A large grabber then started picking the scrap out of the trucks and proceeded to drop it into the melting pits. "They're not the only scrap that needs processing, and besides, they need to have their metals separated and taken into account before they can even begin to be melted down anyway."

The other one grumbled to himself, and then went back to work sorting the trucks out. Usually the trucks would want to pay any scrap engines out viciously for the down fall of so many of their comrades, but since they were in a scrap yard, they couldn't really do anything. They knew they would be taken straight to the pot if they got smashed or broken. A few of the engines that were on the sidings overheard the scrap diesels discussion, and were troubled by it.

"Why and how could engines be so cruel and hateful?" a small C14 tank engine asked. "Don't they have any remorse at all?"

"Engines?" scoffed an H15 tender engine. "They're not engines. They're the scum of the earth, monsters, demons of hell on wheels, real engines would never harbor such hatred for anything. They would also have a sense of morality, and a conscience if they were real engines."

"How long do you think we'll be here?" a J94 asked.

"Why does it matter," the H15 sighed. "We could be here months, or we could be here hours. But if those scum cans are any indication, it may not be that long."

The tank engine began to sniff, trying to hold her water behind her eyes where it was. If she started tearing up then it would only bring more insults and mocking. Unfortunately, fate was not so kind. A BR 22 noticed while bringing some tankers for the furnaces. He threw insults as he passed by, which led to her sobbing afterwards.

The J94 and H15 seethed as the diesel rolled away to the sheds laughing his grills off. "I'd like to see him laughing when his own class is in our current circumstances years from now," the H15 seethed through his teeth.

"Don't lower yourself to their level of thinking Wallace," the J94 said while trying to comfort his C14 friend, "we're better than that."

 **Author's note: I'm still trying to figure out exactly where I'm going to go with this story. I do have the basic idea already, but I'm open for any suggestions anyone has. I may apply some of them to the actual plot. Thank you all so much for choosing to read this. I really appreciate it.**


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, as everyone was waking up and being steamed up, Grant was already on the turntable being turned towards the coaling tower. A few of the trucks had been emptied during the night for trains that had passed by after topping off, so the empties needed to be moved towards the empty stock sidings to make room for the remaining full ones. Grant had decided to get a head start so he could take the trucks off guard that were still asleep. While that would work for most of them, a few of them however were already up, and had resumed their discussion about a certain idea they had.

"Alright, so what's this great idea you've been banging on about since yesterday?" asked the older wagon to the ballast truck leader. "The pannier will be here any minute to start shunting, which will limit the time we'll have to discuss this openly." The ballast truck looked down the sidings behind the older wagon, and saw smoke and steam coming from behind the rolling stock where the sheds were, so he knew he was right in saying they only had a few minutes.

"It's simple," he said, turning his gaze back to him. If we want to be rid of him, then we simply need to put him out of commission. With him out of the way, the yard manager will be forced to either get one of his friends to pick up his work, or more likely order in a replacement shunter.

"Here's how it will need to go. There is a 1 o'clock mixed goods train that we'll be going on this afternoon, so this is when we'll put the plan into action. There is a certain van in the yard who will be on it. He's carrying glass, so if the pannier follows regulations, which being a Great Westerner he'll be sure to do so, the van will be placed at the front of the train to prevent slack action from occurring that could damage the glass. Now, from the looks of his rusted screw pin and hook, it has likely been awhile since he has lasted had proper maintenance."

"This will be crucial to the plan. We'll use his lack of maintenance to our advantage. Since he will be placed at the front, the entire weight of the rest of the train will be against his coupling hooks, so when the train begins to ascend up the hill, we'll make our move. After passing the word to the rest of the trucks, we'll all hold back as much as we can. Due to the decroded condition of the van's coupling chain, it will be much easier to break away than it would be otherwise."

"Since trains usually come in ten minutes after each other, the points will still be set for the yard since it will only have been three or four minutes since our train will have departed. We'll roll right into the yard, and straight for that pannier who will likely be taking on water after marshaling the train, where he'll be smashed right into. If we're lucky he'll come off the line next to the diesel fuel tank close to the water tower, which will indeed make things more chaotic," he finished smiling.

The older wagon paused to think about this. It did seem ingenious, although there was a big possibility of a few of them getting smashed after the impact. One of the reasons he was still around, being as old as he was, was because he usually only participated in causing accidents when he was sure he was in a safer position along the train. But even then, there was still the risk of being reduced to nothing but splinters and a crumbled frame. Plus with the modernization plan in place, trucks and engines had started to be withdrawn left and right, so he figured if his days were possibly numbered, he might as well go down on his own terms.

"Alright, let's do it," he said, making up his mind. "However, what will we do until then-!" He didn't get to finish his sentence, because Grant had just bashed into the back of him with some other trucks.

"You can just shut your gobs for starters," he answered as he shunted them towards the empty stock sidings. "I'll have no pathetic nonsense from any of you lot, understand? Now be quiet and move!" he quipped as he moved them harder into their proper places.

"Maybe if we're still around after we pay the pannier out, we could pay Grant out next," one of the cattle trucks a few sidings over murmured toward the ballast leader.

"That would be fine by me," he grumbled back.

For the next half hour or so, Grant shunted the coal trucks up and down the sidings near the coal chutes. Bringing the full ones to the sides of the chutes to be unloaded, then taking the empties to the empty stock sidings with the other empty trucks. He had to be careful to not handle the full ones to roughly if they misbehaved, should the coal be thrown out onto the tracks. To his surprise though, they weren't being nearly as troublesome as they were last night. This could mean one of two things; they weren't really in the mood for it, or they were silently scheming something.

He really hoped it wasn't the later, but when it came down to freight cars, they never could be completely predictable. After he finally finished his shunting, he went and stopped by Darian who was taking on water at the water tower.

"Morning Darian," Grant said.

"Morning Grant," he replied.

"Do you know when Cameron is due to be back here?" asked Grant curiously. The BR Standard usually did his best to stick to his timetables, but would sometimes be back at different times whenever coming back from Exeter. He usually would set off with a goods train half an hour after he got back, so he was wondering when he needed to start marshaling his train.

"I think he will get here at around a quarter till lunch time," Darian answered. It takes around an hour and a quarter to come back up. He'll be bringing a train back that usually departs at around 10:30."

"Alright then," said Grant. "Say, if you're not busy around that time, do you think you could lend a buffer with marshaling the train? Since you have a shorter wheelbase than I do, it should be easier for you to get around some of the sharper curves around the sheds."

"Sure, I'm sure I'll be able to help with that."

"Thanks gov, cheers," then he backed over the switches so he could take his turn to have a drink since Darian just finished with his.

The trucks were a little concerned. This hadn't been something they were expecting. They wanted to have Darian in their part of the yard when the goods train needed to go out, so they could annoy him to the point where he wouldn't notice the unsafe condition of the glass van's chain, and when they came racing back into the yard to crash into him. If he was going to be helping Grant, they might not get their chance at all to pay him out.

Over by the maintenance sidings, Nolan was still concerned about what he overheard the trucks discussing last night. He knew that they desperately wanting to pay Darian out, but he didn't know how a shunters trucks like him could do anything to prevent them from succeeding. He felt that he should probably let someone know what was going on, but he didn't know how. Thankfully, an answer to his dilemma soon presented itself.

"Nolan? Are you alright?" asked Declan from the siding right next to him. "You look a little troubled."

Nolan nodded slightly while glancing over at him. He had rarely ever talked to anyone in his life, but since Declan and Laura had known him for so long, they've been able to figure him out without him ever really saying anything, which was one of the reasons they had remained strong friends.

"Something bothering you?"

Nolan nodded again looking down at his footboards behind his buffers.

"Something, someone said?"

Nolan nodded again, glancing at him, and then turning his gaze towards the trucks on some of the other sidings. Declan started to get an idea of what Nolan was troubled about. Something to do with the trucks, which was usually nothing good.

"I take it that you overheard them talking about something?"

Nolan nodded again. He then turned his gaze down the sidings towards the engine sheds. Declan followed his gaze and saw that Darian was coming out from around the sheds shunting a couple of short flatbeds and short wheelbase plank wagons, who were looking really annoyed.

Declan looked back over at Nolan. "Were discussing they discussing something about Darian?"

Nolan nodded and kept shifting his gaze from Declan to Darian and back again. Declan guessed, correctly, that Nolan wanted him to talk to Darian when he got the chance. It wouldn't hurt to simply voice some concerns and suspicions with him that could potentially lead to trouble.

He got his chance an hour later. Darian was rearranging some cattle trucks into a sidings to clear up some space for a train that was going to come in in a few minutes.

"Hey Darian, do you have a minute?" Declan asked as he rolled past him.

"I suppose I could talk for a bit," he replied as he shunted his cars into the others and back up to him, "what is it?"

"I feel like there is something Nolan wanted me to tell you earlier," Declan said. "It's about the trucks."

"What about them?"

"I don't know for certain, but Nolan mentioned that a few of them have been discussing something concerning you. I don't think he knew exactly what, but being trucks, you can probably discern that it's nothing good."

"When it comes to trucks there's never anything good," Darian scowled. "They're all nothing but wretched nuisances."

"Ahem?" coughed a voice from ahead of him.

Darian looked over and saw a certain siphon wagon on a siding a few feet ahead of him and Declan.

"Ok ok, not all of them. Sorry Laura," he rushed apologetically.

"It's fine Darian, I knew what you meant," smiled the milk van glancing back behind towards them.

"But returning to the issue," Declan said, "any idea as to what they could be talking about?"

Darian thought for a moment, since the incident with the ballast cars yesterday morning, the trucks had been a lot more difficult with him. They hadn't really been acting up with the other engines, at least not more than usual, so he knew they were singling him out. Then he had an idea.

"Declan, your'e assigned to this yard now aren't you?"

"Yes, ever since about two weeks ago. Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking, do you think you would want to put on the back of the 11:00 goods? Maybe you could possibly pick out a few things they'll be saying. If you find out anything, you could let the rest of us know when you and the empties are brought back."

"I suppose that would be fine. Sure," he replied.


End file.
